by Sean Doolittle

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From Dirt to The Cleanup, Sean Doolittle has dazzled critics and defied expectations, garnering bolder critical raves with each new novel. “Stylishly written” hailed the New York Times Book Review . . . “Superb” declared the Wall Street Journal . . . “Heart-stopping, gut-clenching, eye-opening” raved the Chicago Tribune. Now Doolittle fulfills all that promise—and more—in Safer, a powerhouse of suspense that will catch you off guard at every turn. . . . A young couple moves into an idyllic little cul-de- sac—and ignites a harrowing journey into darkness as a shocking accusation is made, a family is shattered, and the mystery of a long-ago crime begins to unravel.

For Paul Callaway and his wife, Sara, moving from the East Coast to a quiet midwestern town was a major adjustment. But right from the start, Paul has tried to fit in. He’s played golf with the guys. He’s even joined the Neighborhood Patrol, grabbing a flashlight and a walkie-talkie to make these neatly tended streets even safer. Then Paul makes one mistake—and now they want him gone. But nothing could have prepared Paul and Sara for the quarrel that has erupted between Paul and a neighbor—the self-appointed leader of the Neighborhood Patrol. Or for the next outrage, as police arrest Paul for a sordid crime he didn’t commit. Suddenly Paul’s life, university career, and marriage are at risk, as he finds himself locked in a desperate fight with an angry man, a dark conspiracy, and a secret that began with a child’s disappearance ten years before.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780440337799
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 02/24/2009
Sold by: Random House
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 352
Sales rank: 15,043
File size: 4 MB

About the Author

Sean Doolittle is the author of four novels: The Cleanup, Rain Dogs, Burn (winner of the gold medal in the mystery category of ForeWord Magazine's 2003 Book of the Year Award), and Dirt (an Top 100 Editor's Pick for 2001). His short stories have been collected in Plots With Guns and The Year's Best Mystery Stories 2002. He lives with his family in Omaha, Nebraska.

Read an Excerpt

Friday, December 169:25 p.m.

Chapter One

My wife, Sara, and I are hosting a faculty party at our home when the Clark Falls Police Department arrives to take me into custody.

It's the last day of the fall semester. On campus, offices are darkened, final exams completed, lecture halls standing empty until the new year. Most of our colleagues, a few graduate students, and assorted companions have retreated here, at our invitation, to shake off the cold and brace for the holidays.

The house smells like mulled cider and catered food. Hickory logs crackle in the fireplace while conversation bubbles and alcohol flows. I'm at the foot of the staircase with Warren Giler, the chancellor's husband, where we've found common ground on Islay scotch, the '04 Red Sox, and a mutual ambivalence regarding faculty parties. Winter air threads its way into the festivities.

"I'm sorry?" I hear my wife say. She's standing at the front door in her dress and heels, talking to a man in an overcoat. I see two uniformed officers behind him, breathing clouds on our stoop. "Can you tell me what this is about?"

"Uh-oh," Giler says to me. "Those men look stern."

He's right. They do. "I'd better go help," I tell him. "You're not wanted, are you?"

"Not to my knowledge. Possibly the music is too loud?"

I chuckle and excuse myself. Sara gives me a worried look as I join her at the door. She looks terrific with her hair up.

"Evening, guys." I smile. "Cold tonight."

"Paul Callaway?"

"That's right." There are two squad cars parked in front of our house, plus an unmarked sedan in our driveway, behind the catering van. "Is something wrong?"

The man in the overcoat reproduces the badge he's just shown Sara, a gold shield seated in a black leather wallet. He stands medium height, trim and efficient-looking, gray hair neatly combed. Detective Bell, according to the ID card. "Mr. Callaway, we're here to place you under arrest."

"Excuse me?"

Bell hands me a folded document. "I'll give you a minute to find a coat."

Sara takes the papers out of my hand. "Let me see that."

"Guys," I say. "Obviously there's a mistake."

"I'll give you a minute," Bell repeats, "to find a coat."

Our guests are starting to pay closer attention. The simmering stew of conversation thins near the door. Sara, leafing through what appears to be a court-issued arrest warrant, takes a short breath and whispers, "Paul . . ."

"I'm telling you, I don't even have any parking tickets. Arrest me for what?"

"Suspicion of the sexual exploitation of a minor," Bell informs me, this time louder than strictly necessary. He produces a second document. "This entitles us to search the premises, as well as your office on campus."

"My office on campus?" I don't even have an office on campus. I have a mailbox and a table I like in the faculty lounge. In the pin-drop background, all conversation has ceased. I hear the silence rippling through the house, but I've had three rounds of scotch with Warren Giler and now I've lost my temper. "Let me see that badge again."

"I can instruct the officers to handcuff and Mirandize you right here on the steps if that's the way you'd prefer to accomplish this." Bell looks me in the eyes. "But I can see that you're having a party."

"Some detective."

Sara says, "Paul . . ."

In spite of the shock I know exactly who's behind this little production. But it still doesn't make any sense. Sexual what? I picture all of this from the point of view of one of our guests—say for instance Warren Giler, the chancellor's husband—and I realize that by reacting the way any reasonable person might, I'm only making things worse. In fact, I can see in the tense, readied looks on the faces of the two officers flanking Detective Bell that I'm possibly one good outburst away from getting Tasered in my own doorway.

"This has to be a joke," I say.

"Mr. Callaway, you have the right to remain silent." Detective Bell stands aside as one of the officers moves his hand to the cuffs on his belt.

"Jesus." I kiss Sara on the forehead, break away, and reach for the closet.

"Paul, this says . . ."

"It's okay." I nod inside the house. "See if anybody in there knows a lawyer who can make things as unpleasant as possible for Detective Bell and his teenage sons here."

"I want your badge numbers before you leave," Sara says. "All of you." She's taken her administrative tone, and something about the sound of it fills my heart with gratitude. It tells me—if I needed to know—that despite all we've been through these past few months, we're still playing on the same team.

For the moment, that's all I need to set aside the fundamental injustice under way here, swallow the hundred protests clanging in my head, and move this insanity away from our doorstep. I put on my coat and join the two officers waiting to escort me to the curb.

The night air is a bracing slap that leaves me hyperalert, yet strangely numb at the same time. On either side of me, I can feel the officers' hands on my elbows. I can feel the flagstones beneath the soles of my shoes. I can hear myself breathing, feel the hairs freezing in my nostrils, but none of it feels real.

At the curb, the cop on my left cuffs my hands in front of me and puts me in the back of the lead squad unit, behind the wire cage. The other cop finishes informing me, in case I didn't catch it the first time, of my right to remain silent. As to rights, I have a number of others, and he lets me know about those. Do I understand?


I nod my head anyway. The door slams shut, muffling the world outside.

The officer who handcuffed me retraces his steps back to our front door, where he says something to Detective Bell, then something to Sara. Giving his badge number as requested, I presume. The silence around me is punctuated by the occasional soft crackle of the police radio up front. The car smells like peppermint and sweat.

After a few moments, the officer returns and gets in behind the wheel.

"I know you're just doing your job," I tell him through the wire cage, "but this is bullshit."

He makes a sound like it isn't a shift until somebody tells him that. How old is this kid? Except for the uniform, and the gun that goes with it, he looks like he could be a new freshman on campus.

"Out of curiosity, who am I supposed to have exploited? I'd really love to know."

The officer speaks a few words into his radio in a code-riddled language I don't understand, then fastens his seat belt and starts the car.

Our house is the first on the left as you enter the circle, making it the last house you'd pass as you leave. All of our guests' cars are facing my direction. But these cops came in backward, straight to our address, which means that we have to drive clockwise all the way around in order to exit, past each of our neighbors, one by one. Through the foggy backseat window, I see Pete and Melody Seward's porch light go dark as we roll past.

"I guess these cars don't go in reverse," I say, still too angry to be humiliated. We pass Trish and Barry Firth's house, now Michael and Ben's. I saw Michael not half an hour ago, in our kitchen, tutoring the caterers. "Why didn't you back up into the driveway, turn around—wait, but then you couldn't have paraded me around the neighborhood first. You're right, this is much better."

"Let's have a contest," the young cop finally says. "Whoever can be quietest all the way to the station wins. How about that?"

"Gee, I don't know, Officer." Condescending prick. "Who gets to judge?"

Sycamore Court is decked for the holidays. All around the circle, white light drips like icicles from the dormers and eaves. Tendrils of smoke curl from the chimneys, and all the trees twinkle in the cold. I see a wet glint in the dark as the cop's eyes flicker to the mirror again.

"That's a good point," he says. "I guess it'll have to be your word against mine. Sir."

We're almost all the way around now. Between the squat stone pillars on either side of the entrance, I see the black ribbon of newly topped asphalt that will take us around the tree line, down the hill, and into the thick of Ponca Heights, the newer housing development below.

I take a long look at my neighbor Roger's house as we roll past, directly across the circle from ours. His dark windows seem to be watching us. I sense the meaning in the cop's eyes, still fixed on me in the mirror: Get the picture?

For the first time, I feel a chill in my joints that has nothing to do with the weather. I get the picture.

Off we go.

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Safer 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 23 reviews.
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blockbuster1994 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Sean Doolittle writes in a very readable manner. The story moved very quickly, with well defined characters and a believable plot. Scary to think that a neighbor could reign over an entire cu-de-sac. And that someone is watching that closely.
nyiper on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Terrific mystery! I was just fascinated with the detail and all of the convolutions involved in setting this story up, and around and around it went! Just great! Paul is just plain appealing in his perseverance to get this figured out and put his life back together again! Great audio.
sjmccreary on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
A young couple move from Boston to western Iowa where they experience a break-in on the first night in their new home. As a result, an emergency meeting of the local neighborhood watch is called, and they are encouraged to accept the free installation of a top-of-the-line home security system. A series of odd occurances over the next several months culminates in the arrest of the husband for sexual misconduct involving the 13-year old girl next door. What?!?A very nifty suspense/thriller, told largely in flash-back. I loved it up until the very end when all was revealed. Only then did I realize that the key event - the one everything else was built upon - didn't really make much sense. But I decided that I didn't care - it was a fun read and I chose not to let that one detail spoil it for me.
gkleinman on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I really enjoy Sean Doolittle's writing. He's got a clear sense of character, pacing and narrative structure and his latest book Safer is a trill ride read that moves along without skipping a beat, until the end.What I found most engaging about Safer was how imperfect Doolittle paints his main character. All too often authors place main characters above reproach, but in Safer Doolittle sees his main character as fallible, imperfect and completely and utterly human.This stripped down view of character makes the finale of the book all that much more difficult to swallow. Without giving anything away the book comes to a crashing close with a melodramatic solution that is as implausible as it is unsatisfying.I can't really fault such an enjoyable read for one mis-step, but I'd expect better from Doolittle who clearly is a very talented writer. If you're looking for a good escapist thriller in the vein of Lakeview Terrace, give Safe a read.
reverends on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Everyone wants to live in a town where everyone knows each other, where everyone keeps an eye out for their neighbor, a place where you always belong. But what if this idyllic community slowly turned into a Brave New Neighborhood? What everyone knew you more than you would like, your neighbors kept to close an eye on you, and when they didn't like what they saw, decided that you were no longer welcome?Doolittle takes a handful of modern paranoid fears and combines them into a tight, engaging, and suspenseful tale of abusive power and overly cautious neighbors. When Paul Callaway follows his wife and her new job of assistant dean to a cozy little midwestern town, he already feels a little out of place. He tries his best to fit in with his new neighbors, but quickly finds himself clashing with the local community's version of John Walsh; the father of an abducted and murdered child who now spearheads civic response teams and neighborhood watches.Paul's marriage begins to fray at the edges, and his disagreement with his manipulative neighbor turns into a full blown feud. Then he discovers that there's much more going on behind the scenes than anyone imagined, and before he knows what's happening, he's being arrested on charges of sexual misconduct with his neighbor's teenage daughter.What follows is a journey into the substantive fears of the modern man. Exactly how much of our lives is under surveillance? How many freedoms do we willingly and unknowingly sacrifice in the the name of security? How do you prove your innocence when a minor falsely accuses you of sexual improprieties? Can one man really prevail against the system when the system has it out for him?Everyone just wants to feel safe. But as Paul Callaway soon discovers, sometimes the safer you feel, the more at risk you truly are. Like any good suspense novel, the key is believability. Doolittle keeps everything within the realm of reason, and has no trouble convincing the reader to play along. The personalities are distinct but never overblown, the events that take place are always feasible, and the motivations of the characters are never questionable.As with the best suspense novels, it is scary because you believe it could happen to you.
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seriousreaderTB More than 1 year ago
This is a great read. Pulls you in immediately and keeps your attention throughout the ride. If you like mystery with a touch of drama, this is for you.
Stork2009 More than 1 year ago
Not his best, but close and he always goes off of the cliched track
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Kataman1 More than 1 year ago
With the famous writer comments on the cover, I was expecting a lot more from this book that starts out interesting for about 75 pages and then lapses into a very boring and difficult to follow read. I think it is due to the difficult flashback style employed by the author. He uses Paul, the main character who is arrested at the beginning of the book for putting underage porn on the net of his neighbor, to tell the story in first person. Paul keeps saying that he has had to keep from telling his whole side of the story to keep info from his wife. Rather than cause intrigue, it just makes the reader annoyed. Additionally, the author throws in a meaningless interlude involving Paul's lawyer near the beginning of the book that has no bearing on the rest of the book. His neighbor Roger Mallory is like the Robert DeNiro character in Meet the Parents and Roger had formed a neighborhood watch and he let Paul know that he is keeping an eye on all. Roger resorts to over the top tactics to do this. It is obvious that Roger is somehow involved in what is causing Paul his grief and as the story winds down and all is revealed, the reader is left shaking their head at a great many things that transpired and have very little sympathy for Paul.
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Hmmmm. Can you guys still see my post?
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A black german shepered pads here
harstan More than 1 year ago
Paul and Sara Callaway leave Boston for Clark Falls, Iowa. They moved due to her obtaining a position in town. When a teacher is injured, he is hired to replace her for the semester as an English professor at the local college. However, their first night proves auspicious when they have to run off an intruder. They meet self proclaimed neighborhood protector former cop Roger Mallory who welcomes them into his inner circle.

However, Paul becomes concerned when he realizes that Roger is conducting undercover surveillance of his neighbors without their permission. They argue over security vs. rights. Soon afterward the cops arrest Paul during a faculty party. The charges are three counts of producing pornographic images of a minor, which if found guilty can result in up to fifteen years and $200,000 fine. The accuser is Brittany Seward, the thirteen years old daughter of his next door neighbor. His lawyer Douglas Bennett paints a bleak picture. Although the evidence is overwhelming as his hard drive will prove impossible to explain, refusing to be locked away without a fight, Paul investigates the person framing him: Roger.

From the opening scene when the cops arrest Paul until the final CLEANUP of all the DIRT, SAFER is a fast-paced thriller of an academic in deep trouble with increasing proof he committed the crimes he is accused of. Paul is terrific as a yuppie desperately trying to prove his innocence. The support cast, mostly with its close knit small town attitude, close in on hanging him. Although Clark Falls is more or ¿loess¿ a Peyton Place with the residents having many dark secrets, Sean Doolittle provides ax exciting thriller.

Harriet Klausner
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Im here